Prologue to Disaster
by Mean Miss Kite
Summary: This is the prologue to a story of mine that will be posted later, which tells the legacy of the WyndamPryce family. Dirty secrets and all.
1. Fateful Meeting

Disclaimer: I own the way Jack is portrayed, Helena, Margaret, Robert, and any other minor characters that may appear in this small prologue. The rest belongs to the wonderful genius, Joss Whedon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a prologue to one of my stories that will be featured later. Please read and review! Enjoy!

London, England, December 1880

Giggling as her husband spun her around and the music died, Margaret Spennings glanced to the edge of the dance floor, where, to her dismay, her young friend still sat, a wine glass in hand. Started, as Robert pulled her back to him, she raised an eyebrow then nodded towards Helena.

"She is still sitting, Robert."

"That does not mean a thing. If she wishes to be miserable, she will be."

Slapping his arm, playfully, she giggled as he stuck out his bottom lip, and let go of her hand, unwillingly. He knew that anything she could possibly say to cheer up the startling beauty would have no effect. Helena Ambruzzi was a stubborn girl, something his wife seemed to forget every time they brought her along to one of the many English dinner dances they attended.

Rolling his eyes, he soon fell back in with the crowd as a violin stuck up a reel, and his wife exited the dance floor, approaching their young house guest, and falling into the chair next to her.

"Ah, my gracious, that man still can dance like he could when we were first courting."

Accepting a glass of wine from one of the many attendants drifting through the nobles and socialites of London, Margaret took a small sip, eyeing Lena over her wine glass. The girl seemed uncomfortable in her setting, as was normal for her when attending a party or in a large social setting, her large brown eyes scanning the many men and women, all of whom were enjoying themselves.

"You know, dear, a stunning young woman, such as yourself, could easily attract the eye of one of these gentlemen if you left this dark corner."

"Oh, believe me, there is no need to leave this corner to attract said gentlemen. They have been bothering me all evening."

"Bothering, child?"

"Yes, quite annoying they are. Asking if I'd like to dance or talk, mostly about their money, mind you."

"Ah, I see. Another crowd of unappealing suitors at this party, as well."

Scowling, slightly, at her mother's long-time friend, Lena leaned back in her seat, no longer willing to talk about suitors and marriage. The topic had been over exhausted ever since she was eighteen, of the appropriate age to be married, according to her father.

"Well, I can see nothing I say will encourage you to stop your sulking, so I'll be with Robert, if you need anything, my dear, do not hesitate to find me."

Standing, and knowing quite well that Lena would not need anything as long as it meant she had to venture into the mass of people she hated most, Margaret rejoined her husband across the great hall, linking her arm in his, while Lena looked on, grateful for her departure, though instantly feeling her dread return as yet another young duke or earl caught her eye, and looked as if he may make his way to her any moment.

Deciding not to allow this to happen, Lena hastened to the nearest exit, the doors that led to the deserted gallery, outside. Though, she instantly felt the consequence of this decision as the cold, December air nipped at her exposed arms.

"Curses to evening gowns."

Sitting down on a stone bench that faced the massive park area, Lena pulled her wrap tight around her body, but still could not ward off the shivers. Of course, to her, it was better to freeze than have men look at you like a piece of meat, and compete to see who could bed you first.

Suddenly, a noise from behind started her, and upon turning she found a tall, strikingly handsome young man with dark brown hair and a mustache, looking back at her. Realizing, he must be one of the hopeful young men from inside, seeing the chance to be alone with her, and seduce her, a wave of rage consumed her.

Standing, she approached him with a raging fire in her eyes, ready to tell him off, which she proceeded to do with much flare, the complete opposite from her usually calm and quiet self.

"Urgh! You followed me out here, as well! Let me spell it out for you, I am not interested in sleeping with you or your friends, so just leave me alone, please! Is that too much to ask for! I mean, can I not just find my own husband, and settle down? Does everyone have to try and speed up the process?"

Rage gone, she removed her finger from the startled man's chest, and collapsed onto the bench, a little warmer. Though, she was quite aware that the stranger had not retreated from her, but rather come close, standing now at her side, and looking down at her.

"I. . .no, that is not too much to ask for."

"What?"

Looking up at him, and this time started not by his presence but his eyes, which were a dazzling blue, Lena realized what he was saying.

"It is not too much for you to ask to be left alone. . .and choose your husband. I, too, was trying to escape, but I guess I'll have to be alone somewhere else."

Laughing, and burying her face in her hands, completely embarrassed, Lena grabbed the man's hand as he made to walk away.

"Wait. Please. Let me apologize to you. I thought. . .I thought you were one of those pathetic, rich earls, who has been bothering me all evening. Though, you are not, and I apologize for. . ."

"Attacking me."

Offering this statement with a smile, the young gentleman sat next to the girl as she made room for him and smiled back, though shivered a little.

"Are you cold?"

"Just a little. I must admit my. . .escape was not well thought out."

Using his word, she was surprised when he removed his evening jacket and draped it around her shoulders, then, held out his hand.

"My name is Jack."

"Jack. My name is Helena. Well, Lena, as I am called by those who are willing to forgive me after I have attacked them."

As another smiled crossed his face and he kissed the hand she offered, Lena couldn't help but feel the cold retreating, he was incredibly handsome from afar, but close up, he was almost unbearably good-looking. Much better than any man she had seen inside.

"So, Jack, will you tell me, for I do not think you were trying to escape men that want to bed you, why did you leave the richest company in all of London?"

"Well, they may be rich, but they are not good company at all, with their talk of money and lands they've visited. Do not get me wrong, it is wonderful to explore and expand your horizons, but most of them have never seen more of India than the brothels."

"And most wonder why I despise them."

"Oh. You are not English?"

"Oh, no, do not let this accent fool you, Jack. I may have lived in England since I was very young, but I was born in Italy, and raised there until I was four."

"Really? Italy? I did not think your beauty was from this land. Excuse me for sounding like one of those pathetic, rich earls."

Smiling, she acted boldly, again uncharacteristic, and took Jack's warm hand in her own.

"They are none so kind or genuine. I am glad I am not alone."

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What seemed like hours later, the two sat wrapped in one another's arms, still on the same, old stone bench, still content with each other's company.

"Jack."

"Yes, Lena?"

"What do you do? What is your profession?"

"I'm a physician. I have my own practice in Whitechapel."

"Whitechapel?"

Shrugging, Jack pulled her closer to him, unwilling to fully explain why Whitechapel was so important to him.

"They need me most there."

"So, you are a kind, introspective, doctor who likes wine from Italy and being alone. Have I forgotten anything, Jack?"

"Yes, I'm afraid you have. I have quite an interest in you, Helena Ambruzzi, kind, introspective, yet stubborn woman from Italy, who does not like men to chase after her, but is quite willing to attack them in the darkness of night."

Smiling, and playfully slapping his arm, Lena turned her head, unaware that Jack had just leaned in, and found herself looking into his deep blue eyes, their faces inches apart.

"Jack."

Tracing his lips with her fingers, Lena slowly inched closer, and met him with a soft, chaste kiss, that was broken moments later by the sound of an all-to-familiar, annoying voice.

"Helena, are you out here?"

Standing up, but not letting go of Jack's hand, she turned to find Margaret, followed by a highly intoxicated Robert.

"Oh, there you are, dear, I was just. . ."

Cutting off as she caught sight of Jack, Margaret forced back a smile.

"I did not realize you were not alone, I'm sorry, dear."

"No, no, it is getting late, and I'm sure you have work, tomorrow, Jack, do you not?"

"I do, actually, I should. . .return home and get some rest before morning. Though, it was an exquisite pleasure meeting you, Miss Ambruzzi. I hope we meet, again, soon."

Slipping a slip of paper into her hand as he kissed it, Jack was off with a nod to Margaret, though, moment later Lena realized his jacket was still around her shoulders and ran after him, catching him in the hallway.

"Jack!"

Turning, he smiled and appeared baffled, then realized she was holding out his evening jacket.

"You forgot. . ."

Realizing they were alone, she wrapped her arms around his neck, taking advantage of the moment, and kissed him, less chastely than in the garden.

"Again. Soon."

Nodding, and smiling, he was off with a bow, and a moment later, Margaret materialized at her side, with Robert fumbling and trying to remain upright.

"Dear, me, is that a smile, Helena Ambruzzi?"

"It feels like one."

"Well, I should hope to see many more. If the lord makes you happy, I should hope to see a wedding gown on you, as well."

"Lord?"

"You did not know, my dear?"

"Know what?"

"That man, the one you appear to have spent much of the evening with, is Lord Wyndam-Pryce."

"Lord Wyndam-Pryce. He was. . ."

"I think. . .we should. . .go before the French come."

Turning, and taking her dear Robert's hand, Margaret raised an eyebrow to Lena, and was out the door to their carriage. Staying behind a moment, in awe, Lena smiled, again. She was in love with a lord.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hm. . .I wonder what will happen. Jack. . .lord. . .physician. . .Whitechapel. Where am I going with this?


	2. Love Me

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As I promised, more dirty secrets and some not so dirty.

London, England, March 1881

Lena could feel her heart racing as she ran down the back alley. She knew her father was going to be furious. Not only at the fact that she was late, one of the deadliest sins in his book, but also that she dared to be late on the night her parents were finally going to be meeting the man she had be courting with for the last four months.

Jamming the stake in her pocket, she quickly dashed for the front door to Robert and Margaret's townhouse, where they were spending Easter, and threw it open, happy that she had at least ten minutes to make herself presentable before Jack arrived, and glad that no one seemed to be in the parlor.

Removing her shoes, and looking over her shoulder to make sure she was not going to be spotted, she threw open the dining room door, quickly, and came face-to-face with the one human scarier than any vampire she had faced, her father, who at the moment appeared as if he was going to explode, and his face only got redder when he caught sight of his unseemly daughter, late, again.

"Father, I. . ."

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her into the parlor, though she could see her mother, Robert, Margaret, and Jack, whom she had forgotten always arrived at least ten minutes early for any occasion, quite the opposite of herself, looking concerned, Jack most of all as he stood, making to follow after and give her father a piece of his mind for treating his beloved in such a way. When the door closed, however, no one had come to her rescue, not even her valiant knight.

"What were you thinking?"

"I. . .I was attacked on my way home, and I. . ."

"Silence! Enough of your excuses, girl! I swear, that is all you have! I do not see what that man could possibly want in you besides a good lay, though in those boys' clothes you hardly look fit for a wedding bed. Go change, now!"

Always brief, though sometimes less merciful, Frances Ambruzzi stormed off, leaving his daughter to hurry upstairs. She knew what her father had said was completely false, Jack was interested in much more than the wedding bed, he loved her, and in every way was the complete opposite her father.

Shutting the door to her bedroom, she quickly stripped her long linen shirt and trousers, and wrung out a warm washcloth, cleaning the scratch wounds on her arms and trying hard to get the ones on her back when suddenly the door opened behind her, and shut.

Turning, she found Jack standing in the dim light, looking at her with concern, though she quickly grabbed her discarded shirt, covering herself, as he turned, covering his eyes with one hand.

"Oh. I'm sorry, love. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I didn't mean to intrude. Sorry, love."

"No, it's fine, Jack. I'm sorry I was late. . .oh, just look at me, I find it hard to talk to you when you're not."

Turning, he found her covered by the shirt, but he also noticed the bruises and scratches on her body, and all awkwardness forgotten, quickly approached her, examining her wounds.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine. They're nothing."

Taking the damp washcloth, he bathed her arms, though, she turned, exposing the wounds on her back, and looking at herself in the mirror, completely terrified. She and Jack had been close, kisses and hand-holding, but they had never been intimate with one another.

Looking back in the mirror, she could see his blue eyes boring into her back, scrutinizing every wound as he worked to mend it, then, found herself envious of his patients and their closeness to him. Suddenly, his eyes met hers, with concern.

"Did your father do this to you?"

"No. . .he. . .he did not."

"I'm sorry you got in trouble. I should have been later."

"No, it wasn't your fault."

"But I feel as if it was."

Suddenly, his hand came across a wound that made Lena intake a sharp breath.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, I just. . .it hurt. I should have been more careful, I was attacked on the way home. A pick-pocket, that's all."

"I'm sorry, my love. Though, I do know something that might help with the pain."

Kissing, the wound, gently, he looked into Lena's eyes in the mirror, then found her neck with his lips, then her shoulder blade, and before he knew it, she was moaning in his arms with pleasure. Pleasure that she could not allow herself to have, not now at least.

"Jack, we cannot."

"Cannot what?"

"Make love. We are not married."

"Mm, I may have a solution to that problem."

"What do you me. . ."

Suddenly, there was a ring in front of her. The diamond sparkling in the dim light of the room, and Jack's arms no longer around her, for he was on one knee in front of her.

"I have your father's permission, but I do not have yours, which is the only one that really matters. So, please, Helena Maria Ambruzzi, will you marry me, and make me the happiest man alive?"

"Yes, yes, my God yes, I will marry you!"

Falling to her knees, and wrapping her arms around Jack's neck, just giving him enough time to slip the ring on her finger, Lena kissed him, passionately, so passionately that she did not realize when the shirt she had been holding to cover herself slipped, only to be caught by Jack a moment later, his blue eyes burning into hers as he smiled, and kissed her forehead.

"Not until our wedding night, my love. Now, I believe your parents and Mr. and Mrs. Spennings will find it a little odd if we remain here much longer, I used to the lavatory as my excuse, and I fear that if I do not return before long, they will send a search party looking for me, and it would be quite a disaster to find me here, with you being in the state you are in, wouldn't it?"

"Then, we had best get married, soon, for I do not know if I can wait much longer."

Kissing her, softly, Jack chuckled. She was going to be his wife and mother of his children, she had said yes.

"Then, we shall begin discussing the details when you join me, downstairs. As for now, I depart."

And with a chaste kiss, he was gone, leaving her on the floor, the grey linen shirt in her hands, and her new engagement ring on her ring finger.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Next chapter, the wedding night, some secrets are revealed to the characters, and maybe we shall see the Wyndam-Pryce estate. After all, Lena does have to get acquainted with her new manor, does she not?


	3. Wedding Night

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hm. . .wedding night! Get your mind out of the gutter, though, this isn't some dirty filler, there's real conversation in here! Enjoy!

London, England, June 1881

Sitting in front of the mirror in her new bedroom, Lena combed her long, black hair, which until a few moments ago had been braided, but now, spilled over her shoulders and onto her white wedding gown. Her white shoes and veil lay on the hard-wood floors where they had fallen off as Jack, who had disappeared downstairs for a moment, carried her through the threshold of their bedroom, not wanting to put her down after they had entered the house.

Looking up from her combing, Lena saw him examining her from the doorway, where he stood, to her excitement and terror, in only his under breeches, a bottle of wine in one hand that was propping him up, and two glasses in the other.

As he set them down on the bedside table, he approached her, and she could not help it, her body began to tremble. They were so in love, but that did not mean she was not scared of being intimate with him for the first time. Then, the shaking stopped as his hand grazed her shoulder, and he crouched down beside her, allowing his lips to touch her cheek, softly, first one and then the other.

"Are you frightened, my love?"

"No, Jack, we're married."

Sighing, he pushed her hair back off her neck, so he could kiss behind her ear, then, softly whisper.

"I know, but that does not mean you are not frightened. We do not have to if you do not wish."

"I want to. . .I want to make love to you, more than anything else I have ever wanted."

He seemed satisfied as she said this, but did not pursue her offer, rather going to the bed, and lying down, watching her still as she combed her hair, nervously. After awhile, he stopped watching, poured himself a glass of wine, offered her a glass, and finally began drifting to sleep at half past midnight.

She had never seen him sleep, of course, and he seemed so peaceful, as he did much of the time. Though, she could not help but feel guilty. She knew he had expected to make love, she herself had until the moment actually arrived, and she became fearful.

Why was she so nervous? He was her husband. Her lover. The one man she would be with for the rest of her life. Had she not been taught this by her governess? She had, but had not wanted to care about marriage. No one seemed to be good enough for her, then. They just wanted to bed and talk about their money, and bore her with a life of solitude and service to them, but Jack had wanted none of that, but rather encouraged her to be her own person, the woman he loved, and she had let him down.

Waking with a start at the sound of her brush being thrown down, Jack looked around to find her standing at the end of their bed, watching him with fire and lust.

"Lena?"

Crawling to him, she kissed him with lust on her lips and one intention in mind. It was most startling to the half-conscious Jack, but he was soon awake and ready for what she wanted to do. Holding up her left-hand, he examined the ring he had placed there only ten hours previous, and kissed it.

"I believe this gives me permission to have my way with you."

Climbing on top of her, he was surprised at how quick the tables changed and he was looking into her seductive brown eyes.

"You may have that backwards, dear."

Smiling at her boldness, he wasted no time in removing her wedding dress, exposing soft, olive skin, that burned with passion, his fingers playing with her hair as she kissed him, and then, he reached over, extinguishing the only source of light.

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Hours later, Lena lay in the darkness of their bedroom, still energized from their passion, and not being able to sleep, though Jack's breathing had deepened long ago, his arm around her waist. She was thinking about their love making, their wedding, and their future, but most of all the one thing that combined all three of these subjects, the fact that she may be quickening with Jack's child at the very moment, and she had still not told him of her secret life, the fact that she was the one and only Slayer.

How was she to be his wife if she kept secrets? Worse off, how was she to be a mother? Her thoughts must have been weighing on her more than she realized, for a moment later, she was calling for her husband, not even meaning to.

"Jack, are you awake?"

"Mm."

"Really?"

"Mmhm."

Rolling over to face him, she found his eyes were only half-open, but decided to proceed with confiding in him.

"I have something I have not told you."

"If it's that you're very good at making love, I've already found that out."

Smiling to himself, and causing Lena to smile, as well, and brush his cheek with her hand, Jack closed his eyes, again, thinking their discussion was over. His hopes were dashed, though, as she called his name, again.

"Jack, dear. It's not that."

Knowing she would not give up until she got what she wanted, his attention, he propped himself up on one arm, forcing himself to open his eyes, and look at her.

"What's wrong?"

"I have not told you something. Something serious."

"What is it?"

"I work for. . .well, I don't work for them, but they control me. . ."

"Who, my love?"

"My father and his friends. They're called the Watchers Council."

"The Watchers Council?"

"Yes."

"And, they control you?"

"Yes, because I am. . .a Slayer. . .the Slayer."

"The Slayer? Slayer of what?"

Shrugging, and laying her head near his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist, Lena decided that confiding everything at once was probably the best approach, he could not leave her if she carried his child in her womb, or if he really was madly in love with her, as he claimed.

"Vampires. Demons. The forces of darkness. Do not think me crazy, Jack, I am telling the truth. Please, believe me."

Tilting her head upwards, Jack kissed her lips, then drew back, looking into her eyes.

"You do not look crazy, and I've known quite some time about vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. Though, Slayer. That's new."

"So, you are not going to admit me to an asylum?"

"Oh, no, my love. I could never find someone as perfect as you. Though, your father and his friends, I do have a slight problem with that. I am your husband. . .and master."

Slapping his chest, playfully, Lena leaned in for another kiss, and placed his hand on her stomach.

"Jack."

"Yes, my love?"

"Am I carrying your child, now? You, being a doctor, would know, correct?"

Shifting, so that both his hands were on her stomach, Jack kissed it, and then trailed up to her lips, capturing them with his own.

"Me, being a doctor, would know, but only when you quicken. Though, I doubt making love once would do it."

"So, I am not carrying a babe?"

"I did not say that. You very well may be. Though, I hope not. I would like to have some fun before children come along."

"Mm, what kind of fun?"

Changing her position, so she was lying on top of Jack, Lena kissed his neck, ready to wear herself out, and use her Slayer muscles for other purposes than slaying evil demons. Though, the moment she made to put her plans into action, he stopped her, looking into her eyes.

"I have not told you everything, either, my love."

"What do you mean?"

Slipping back into bed beside Jack, Lena looked into his eyes, which held the one emotion she had never seen on Jack, sadness.

"What is it?"

"Have you ever wondered why I do not mention my parents?"

"Your father died, Jack, and your mother. . ."

"Was a whore. Probably still is."

Started to hear Jack speak like this, his usual calm and polite manner gone, Lena brushed his cheek with her hand.

"She slept with my father, his mistress, and got pregnant, he abandoned her as she quickened with me, and I never met him until he lay on his dying bed."

"And he signed everything to you."

Jack looked down at her, a dark shadow passing over his face, but it was forgotten as he became his soft self, laying his head on the crook of her neck, and kissing her, passionately, then, climbing on top of her.

"He did, indeed, Mrs. Wyndam-Pryce."

Gasping, and kissing Jack as she found his lips, Lena wrapped her arms around his neck, and enjoyed her wedding night.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hm. . .perfect marriage, what more could they want? Can't things stay perfect? Not if you've already guessed where I'm taking this. Next chapter, she wanted a baby, right? Hm. . .


	4. Seed of Evil

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, we have Jack and Lena, and they've been at it for awhile, now. Everything's falling into place, they're happy. . .but wait, Lena's not the only one who wants a child.

**wesleyssilverphoenix**: Thanks, for the review! I loved it! Here's the next chapter, so I hope you enjoy!

London, England, January 1882

Waking, as she heard Jack stumble around their bedroom, trying to find his shirt, Lena smiled and savored being able to watch him without his knowledge. He was always flustered when he couldn't find something, though Jack never lost his temper. He was always calm and usually quiet, except in his early morning scramble.

Finding his shirt, he pulled it over his head, and tucked it in, then, looped his tie and pulled it through, only now catching sight of his wife, silently giggling at him.

"Do you think that is funny?"

"Quite, Jack."

Smiling, he made his way to their bed, where she lay, and leaned down, kissing her on the lips, softly, though it deepened as she pulled him towards her, back into the warmth of the sheets and comforter, not to mention her body.

"Stay home, today. You can keep me company while I must remain in this bed."

"You know I would love to, but there are so many who need me."

"Let William tend to them."

"He is not a trained doctor, my love."

Frowning as he left her, and grabbed his jacket, Lena propped herself up on one arm, and pulled the blankets around her body, trying to stay warm. She longed to have Jack stay with her, and make love. They had not in months, but she knew before she asked he could not, and accepted it.

"You will be home, tonight?"

"Of course. For dinner, and bed."

Saying this with a wink, Jack kissed her on the forehead, and then handed her a glass of water and some pills from his own medicine cabinet to help with the nausea and vomiting.

"These should help. Take them this morning, after you eat lunch, and right before dinner. Also, try to rest, you are ill, and as stubborn as you are, Helena, I think you can recognize when you are defeated."

"What? By a weak flu? I think not, Jack Wyndam-Pryce."

Smiling, and letting his hand wander under the covers, a gesture that promised he would join her later, Jack stood and was halfway to the door before she stopped him.

"Would you mind having Sophie bring me some ice, dear?"

"Are you warm?"

"No, I want to eat it. Odd, I know, but I want ice."

"Of course, I'll have her bring you some ice, but I think we should leave it out of the bedroom, tonight."

Winking, he closed their bedroom door, leaving Lena feeling quite lonely and wishing for his immediate return, though she knew this would not happen. Jack was devoted to his wife, but also to his work. Rolling over, she covered herself, and closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted, as she had been for the last few days.

Somehow, she had gotten quite sick, though she had been careful to wear warm clothing when she went out, and she had not eaten anything to make her sick. It was most curious and even Jack did not have the answers, but figured she'd be better once he gave her some medicine, which he had, but it did not make her feel completely well, just dulled her symptoms.

Closing her eyes, she drifted into a warm sleep, dreaming mostly about her husband, but other dreams of cricket and tea parties did drift in and out of her head, until finally, she fell into a deep sleep where dreams could not reach her.

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Lena, aware of someone else's presence, opened her eyes, but immediately closed them and pulled the covers over her head as the bright, midday sun reached her eyes.

"Mistress, are you well? I have brought your ice. Gregory got it from the market the moment Master Jack asked for it."

"Marie. I am glad, thank you, but could you please pull the drapes, my dear, the sun is hurting my eyes."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hearing the drapes being pulled across the window, blocking out the cold, January day, Lena removed the covers from her head, and found a large bucket of ice cubes on the bedside table, which she immediately began eating.

"Mm, thank you. I don't know why I wanted ice cubes, of all things, but I just had this mad craving."

"Perhaps. . .never mind, it is not my place. Besides, I did not only bring the ice cubes, but also news that Lady Margaret Spennings is here."

"Oh, dear. That woman will put me in my grave."

"Do you wish me to tell her that you are not well enough to entertain guests, Madam?"

"No, no, you might as well send her up. She will pursue until she gets what she wants, anyhow."

"Yes, Madam."

Exiting, as Lena adjusted herself, so she at least appeared half presentable in her state, the maid's company was soon replaced with that of Margaret Spennings, who sat down in a chair next to the bed, Gregory, the butler, had brought.

"Ah, my dear, you are pale. You are not well, at all, are you?"

"No, I am afraid I have come down with the flu, Madam Spennings, brought upon by this dastardly weather."

"Oh, that it is. The wind blows, and the. . .good gracious, child. Why is there a bucket of ice on your bedside table?"

"I had a craving for it. It is nothing, though, I do not have a fever, so do not worry, Jack does enough of that for everyone."

Smiling, Margaret placed her hand on that of her goddaughter, and gave it a small squeeze. Jack had been a very fitting husband for Lena, they got along so well, and everyone, even Frances, who barely took a liking to anyone but his dogs, loved the boy. He had been thrilled when Jack had announced that he would like to join the Council, and be Lena's official Watcher.

"A craving, you say, dear?"

"Yes, it's quite odd. One moment I will be incredibly hungry, and the next, I will not. I think I want something, but then have this mad craving for something else, even odd items such as, believe it or not, salt."

"Salt? What does Jack say of this?"

"He says nothing, but smiles and complies, he knows I have a will of my own. The cravings are nothing compared to this flu, however."

"And this flu, Jack has given you medicine?"

Looking at the bedside table, next to the bucket of ice, Lena withdrew her vitamin pills, and showed them to Margaret, then popped two in her mouth, as Jack had instructed. He said the vitamins would make her better.

"Yes."

The curious look on Margaret's face made Lena a little uneasy, but then, she felt motherly warmth to her godmother as she sit next to her on the bed, stroking her black hair.

"What has this flu entailed, Lena? What are your symptoms?"

"Well, I'm deathly nauseas in the morning, and usually am sick, but Jack stays with me on these mornings to make me feel better."

"And tell me, have you gained weight since you've been feeling bad?"

"Gained weight? A little, though I have not been eating that much, and I hope Jack does not notice, and think me undesirable."

"So, your stomach, it does grow, then?"

"Margaret!"

"No, no, my child, I do not ask for those reasons, I ask, because, well. . .let me see it, and then I may tell you for certain."

"I will. . .fine."

Letting her curiosity get the better of her, Lena decided it could no harm letting Margaret see her stomach, though for what reason she did not know, as she lifted her bed shirt, which had grown tighter with her weight gain, and allowed her godmother to see her stomach. Though, as Margaret smiled, she began to feel that something other than weight gain was at work.

Feeling the girl's stomach, which was not tender like that of someone who was getting heavier, but rather firmer, as with a woman who was with child, Margaret, placed her bed shirt back down, and took her hands.

"My dear, you are not ill with the flu, and the cravings are normal for a woman who has conceived."

"Conceived! Wait, conceived?"

Lena sat upright in her and Jack's bed, a smile breaking out on her face, as Margaret hugged the girl who had always been like a daughter to her.

"You're quickening with Jack's child! Believe me, he will not think you undesirable when he learns that you grow, because you have his babe growing in your womb."

"A babe? I'm going to be a mother, and Jack a father? I must tell him, I cannot wait!"

"No, you must. You must plan this. Tell him when you are alone, it is better if there is not an audience, for he may want to spend the moment with just you."

"Then, I will have to wait until tonight, after supper."

"Then, so be it. Before this, however, you must write a letter to your mother and father, then send it after you have told Jack. Your parents are going to be so excited, my dear."

"Oh, Margaret, we have talked of conceiving a child, but I do not know how to tell him I am pregnant."

"You have not to worry, Helena, he loves you, it is obvious to anyone who sees the two of you together that you are both madly in love with the other. Your child shall grow in this love."

Hugging Margaret, again, Lena silently prayed that Jack would come early, then realized that before that, she should make herself presentable, and have the cook make Jack's favorite meal, to set the mood for her joyous news.

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That night, it was freezing outside and the sun had fled the sky by five in the afternoon, just as Lena was finishing dressing herself, though the dress she chose barely fit her expanding stomach. She felt she needed to talk to the babe, referring to it as 'darling', for she did not know the sex, and playfully scolding it for causing her to lose her shape.

"Your father had better be on time, tonight, though, I don't know how I am going to contain myself at supper. I must, though, for William will be there, and Margaret said that I should inform him of you in privacy. Silly me, you must be hungry, I should eat something for the both of us, shouldn't I?"

Taking careful steps, she left the bedroom and made her way to the entry hall, then the dining room, sitting at her usual seat, left of Jack's, which was at the head of the table. Waiting what seemed like hours, she had her soup served, coming to the conclusion that she was too hungry to wait for Jack or William, who often joined the pair for supper.

"Darling, where are they?"

Suddenly, a gust of air blew in and the front door closed with a thud in the entry hall. Exhaling, Lena stood and walked, slowly, not wanting to appear too eager, though found only William hanging his scarf and coat in the closet.

"William."

"Lady Lena, I'm sorry, I did not see you when I came in."

"I was in the dining hall waiting for the lord and yourself."

"Oh, yes, about Lord Jack, he is going to be late, a patient."

Trying hard not to let her dismay show, Lena put on a fake smile for William's sake, and then led him into the entry hall, where he took a seat across from her, watching her as he began eating his soup, though she did not notice for she was distracted by her thoughts.

"Is something wrong, my lady?"

"Hm?"

Looking up from the table cloth, which she hadn't been purposely staring at, Lena found William's blue eyes boring into her brown ones, a quizzical look on his face.

"Is something the matter? You do not seem yourself, my lady."

"Oh, no, I just. . .I need to rest, I'm tired all of a sudden."

"Really? Are you still ill?"

"Not very. Thank you for inquiring, William. I shall see you, tomorrow?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have a good night, then, dear."

Smiling, Lena left the table, promising she'd eat something later for the baby and herself. She just couldn't get anything down while she was so anxious, and just sitting there waiting was making her sick to her stomach. So, she retired to the bedroom, stripping her dress, and pulling on a linen nightshirt that belonged to Jack, for it fit her swelling stomach better than any of her nightgowns.

Climbing into bed, she wrapped the comforter and sheets around herself, silently saying her evening prayers and placing her hand on her stomach to comfort her unborn child.

"Goodnight, darling."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Next chapter, Jack comes home, bringing some secrets of his own to their family. Also, William? Blue eyes? Sound like anyone we know?


	5. Burying the Knife

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In this chapter, things finally start falling into place for those who haven't guessed the infamous identity of our Jack, or maybe not. It depends on how much you like history.

London, England, January 1882

The old oak stairs creaked under the weight of the tall, lean man who ascended them, though, he tried to tread lightly, as not to wake his wife, whom he was sure was sleeping at this hour in the morning, something he had counted on. Wiping the red-tinted water on his hands away with his shirt, Jack opened their bedroom door, walking softly across the room, and filling the wash basin with water from the pitcher he had thought to bring with him, upstairs.

His night couldn't have been any worse, all he had wanted was to come home early, eat supper, and make love for hours to his beautiful wife, but no, that was something those Danish whores, who had walked by his clinic hoping to make some money off the rich, young doctor, did not want. Whenever he thought he had gotten his life perfect _they _showed up, always somewhere close by, ready to ruin his happiness, but he had seen to them, and now, they'd never flaunt themselves to him, again.

Smiling, as he thought of his deed, Jack rinsed his hands, again, then his face, using soap to get the blood flecks off. He had been almost ingenious, tonight. They hadn't seen him coming from behind, and the job had been quick and discreet, the bodies now at the bottom of the Thames.

Suddenly, a small noise behind him started him, and he spun around, grabbing his wife's arm, and surprising her, her eyes wide and breath sharp. Realizing that he was still worked up, Jack released her arm, letting his face go back to its normal calmness, and muttering a quick apology, though as he turned, she touched his arm, softly. The softness she reserved for him, and him only, the softness he found calmed his nerves.

"Jack, you are covered in blood. You did not lose your patient, did you?"

"Patient?"

Remembering that he had dismissed William with the story of having to stay late with a patient, Jack blinked and broke out in a smile, as if he had been thinking upon other, heavier matters and only then remembered his work.

"No. It took much work and effort, but I did not lose the lass."

Giving her another warm smile, Jack placed a warm kiss on her cheek, and allowed her to remove the bloodied shirt with the concern his own mother would have showed has she not been busy in her sinful dealings. He soon found, however, that her actions were quite arousing, and in a moment of passion, he lifted her into his arms, her legs around his waist, and her back against the bedroom wall.

Pressing her harder, so she would stay in place, he removed his hands and undid his belt, letting his pants fall to the floor, his under breeches soon following, and her nightshirt joining them moments later as he kissed her neck, hungrily, the adrenaline from his kill pumping through his veins, and finally finding its realize as he made love to his wife, the one woman who understood him and would love him no matter what.

"You're so damn beautiful. I'm the luckiest man in the world to get to make love to a woman like you."

Surprised at hearing Jack swear, even in the heat of their passion, Lena looked down into his lust filled eyes, feeling foolish for ever believing Jack could think her undesirable, and kissed his lips. How happy was he going to be when he learned he was going to be a father? Moments later, the excitement of her baby news and Jack's kisses sent her over the edge, pleasure coursing through her veins, with Jack soon following.

Resting his head on her shoulder, Jack softly whispered his wife's name and allowed his head to rest on her shoulder, breathing deeply and completely exhausted, though satisfied. Finding strength somewhere in his body, he carried her to the bed, letting her gently fall to the mattress, and then joining her, his head still on her shoulders, and her hands in his hair as he fell asleep.

Lena new as she heard Jack's breathing slow and his breathes become deeper with sleep, that she'd have to wait until morning to tell him their good news. She didn't mind, though, rather indulging in the time she had to prepare and stroking Jack's chestnut brown hair, lovingly.

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As the mattress shifted under him and footsteps quickly ran to the washbasin, Jack lifted his head from his pillow, catching sight of his wife retching. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on his discarded under breeches from the night before, and handed her a towel as she finished, which she took gratefully, and sighed as he moved her hair away from her face.

"I am sorry that you are ill."

"It's nothing, if anything, it's getting better, and with time, Margaret says it will fade out."

"Really? Is Margaret a doctor, now, as well as a nosy socialite."

Raising an eyebrow and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Jack smiled after a moment, looking at his wife in the mirror. She knew he did not care for the pomp and circumstance of the upper class of London, but he did not show so when they where in public, and of course, acted polite around everyone, though later confided to his wife.

"She is not that bad, and you know it, Jack Wyndam-Pryce."

Lifting her into his arms, playfully, Jack laid her on the bed, then collapsed beside her, his face inches from hers, every breath shared. Letting her fingertips graze his face, Lena smiled, thinking quickly, and knowing this was the right moment. Here, in the pre-dawn blue light of morning and their bed, where they were lovers and confidants, she would tell him of their baby.

"Jack, do you think you could leave work for a month or so around June."

"Why, my love?"

"I want to go to Italy, to Sicily and my family."

"Yes, but why, my love?"

"Mm, I don't know. I just don't want to have our babe in England, and Italy's always nice in the summer."

"Babe? You're. . .you've. . .conceived? My child."

Nodding and smiling, Lena giggled as Jack's lips closed on hers, and he grinned like a schoolboy, hardly containing himself as he stood and paced the room with the same silly grin on his face.

"I'm going to be a father?"

Nodding, again, Lena joined him where he stood at the side of the bed, and put his hands on her stomach, where their child was growing. Now, new questions formed in her mind, as she realized they had so much to plan for.

"What do you think it will be? A boy or a little girl?"

"Mm, I don't care, as long as it breathes."

Smiling, as Jack playfully kissed her neck, and wrapped his arms around her waist, Lena giggled, though something didn't feel quite right as Jack laid his head on her shoulder, something was amiss.

"What is it, Jack?"

"It is nothing, love, but everything."

"Everything? The babe? You are not happy?"

"No, no, I'm overjoyed about our child. It's just. . .I have a secret, one I feel I cannot continue to keep from you if we are to make our family work."

"A. . .secret?"

Looking into Jack's calm eyes, Lena felt curious, but not wary, her Jack would never keep something important from her. She knew this, and smiled, lightening the mood, and sitting on the mattress.

"What kind of secret?"

"It. . .it's really not a big ruckus, just a little. . .thing, I thought you should know before the babe was born."

"Well, silly? What is it?"

Seeing the smile on Lena's face, and the way she held her stomach, Jack's courage quickly fleeted. How could he dump this on her, now? What if she decided not to have his child if he told her? What if it upset her so that she lost the babe? He could not have that. He could not ruin the moment.

Stroking her cheek, fondly, he leaned in, softly kissing her lips, and then hugging her, fighting back every part of him that was screaming to tell her as her arms wrapped around him.

"I'm so in love with you it hurts."

"That is your secret?"

"Yes."

"It was not a well kept one, for I am so in love with you, I would kill."

Grimacing as she said this, Jack decided to bury his troubles, they did not matter for he was going to try and be better for his wife, and their child. Letting his hands slide down her abdomen, he jerked away her nightgown, kissing her softer than he had the night before, and following her as she lay on the mattress, a small giggle escaping her as she stroked his brown hair.

"Jack, I am already carry."

"Mm, I know love, I just want to make sure."

Smiling, he quickly pulled the curtains around the bed, giving them the privacy lovers should have, and promising himself the first thing he would do when he was decent was burn his bloody clothes and hide the knife in the attic, where it would never be found, along with his darker side.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is our Jack really giving up? Or is this something temporary? What about the baby? Italy? Well, next chapter, you'll find out. Please leave a review, small or large.


	6. Babe in the Arms

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the last chapter of this story. The rest will be put in another story called Ripper, which will continue to the times of our favorite, and the hottest, Watcher, Wesley.

Sicily, Italy, July 1882

Leaning back in his chair at the breakfast table, Jack took another drag of his peppermint and tobacco cigarette, and sighed. Things had been tense, lately. The baby was late, Lena's mood swings were almost out of control, and Jack was on edge because of both. Not to mention Lena's parents, especially her mother, never giving the couple a moment of privacy.

"Jack, dear, you really should eat something."

Coming back from his thoughts, Jack met Sonora's, Lena's mother, deep brown eyes, just like his love. They also shared the same black hair and olive skin, her father, however was fair, with brown hair and light skin, for he was half-English.

"Oh, I was going to, I just was thinking."

"Oh, dear, I know that look. It's the look all father's get before their wife is due. Do not worry, Jack. The child will come, it just takes time."

"It's overdue, though, mother. One whole week!"

"Lena, dear, calm yourself. Perhaps you should rest after breakfast. You'll need your energy."

Pushing her chair back from the table, Lena stormed out of the dining room in one of her mood swings. Jack knew he'd have to calm her, and quickly made to follow, only to be stopped by Sonora's thick Italian-accented voice calling his name.

"Jack, let her go. She's just having a mood swing, like most pregnant women. Though darned be, she never wanted to be told to do anything as a child."

"I know, but I don't want to leave her upset. It doesn't matter how stubborn she is."

"Oh, nonsense, that girl spent most of her childhood upset with one thing or another. If you haven't learned by now, my boy, there is no pleasing my daughter."

Concealing a glare, Jack smiled, politely, and returned to his seat at the table, across from Sonora. The only reason Jack didn't pack his and his wife's things, and take a train back to London was Lena's will to have the babe in her homeland. When she wasn't upset with him or her parents, she talked about all the wonderful things they would do when they were parents, and had even began mentioning names for the child the night before, to Jack in bed.

"Perhaps we should leave her awhile, and go into the market."

"Frances, you are impatient with her, I know, but the babe might arrive while we frolic."

"The servants know how to call upon a doctor, do they not?"

"They do, yes."

"Then, I do not see why we cannot enjoy ourselves. What do you say, Jack, my boy?"

"I say I am sorry, but I will have to turn you down on your offer, as tempting as it is. I must write to my assistant in London, he is operating my clinic, and I would like to inquire how he is handling it, and tell him that the babe has yet to arrive. Have a lovely time, though."

With that, Jack left the table, hastily as to leave no time for arguments from Frances, and ascended the staircase that led to the hall, and then to the lavish bedroom he shared with his wife, who was lying on the bed, stroking her stomach.

"How are you? I know your mother somehow upset you, but you cannot be storming. . ."

"Don't!"

"Don't?"

"Don't."

Pointing her finger at him as a warning, though not even opening her eyes, Lena sighed, letting Jack know he'd better not start anything or else he'd be dealing with a very agitated, very pregnant woman. She was not going to stand for anything just because of her condition.

"All right, my love. If you need me, I'll be over here, where I'll be completely silent and not irritate you."

"Good."

Smiling, despite himself, Jack collected some paper, a pen, and bottle of ink from the desk in the corner of the room, and then, sat on the leather in front of the bed, which he found rather uncomfortable, but more so than the hard-backed chairs that were his other option.

He had learned quite a lot of Lena's parents from the way they furniture their home, or rather house, for Jack could not imagine warm feelings coming from anyone who could endure the pain of a stiff back, much less inflict it upon others.

As he began to write, he noticed his wife drifting to sleep, her hand placed protectively on her stomach, which she allowed no one, save Jack, to touch for fear it might harm the babe. It was all rather irrational to him, but he indulged her, letting her believe what she wished. It did not matter to him if her many aunts and uncles did not get to feel the babe kick, for in their bed, one of the only times they were alone, he was allowed to feel the kicks and think of names and plan plans of sailing and birthday celebrations with his wife.

Letting his _important_ messages find their way to the wooden floors, Jack leaned back on the sofa, his hands behind his head, his thoughts on a boat in the English Channel, a small cottage on the Isle of White, and a beach near Florence, his wife and nameless child near him. Being a father-to-be was exhausting, and soon he drifted to sleep like a boat on the tide.

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"Jack!"

Drowsily opening his eyes, finding the midday sun pouring through the windows, Jack glanced at his wife, who was reaching for him, wearing a frantic look on her face.

"What's the matter, Lena?"

"The bed's wet."

"The bed's wet? The bed's wet!"

Standing, quickly, Jack ran to her to make sure she was mistaken, and quickly felt his heart drop in his chest, the bed, indeed, was wet. Grabbing his shirt and her stomach, Lena closed her eyes against the pain that was searing through her body, greater than any pain she had ever experienced before.

"Doctor! I need a doctor to deliver the babe!"

"The babe! It's coming?"

"What do you think!"

"Oh, Lady Madonna!"

Rushing out of the bedroom, Jack ran downstairs, hoping to find some assistance, or at least someone to give him a good slap and bring him to his senses. Dashing down the staircase, nearly breaking his neck as he stumbled down the last four stairs, Jack looked about but could find no other soul than Phelize, the hired girl, polishing the bookcase.

Panicking, and grabbing her arm, he pulled her towards him, much to her surprise.

"Phelize, I need you to run as fast as you can to the nearest doctor's home, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Jack, but what is going on?"

"Lena's gone into labor! Run!"

As the girl took off, Jack quickly rushed around looking for anything that might help his wife until the girl could get back with the doctor. Hopefully the babe could wait that long. Rushing back upstairs with a towel and some water from the pump, outside, in his arms, Jack found his wife in an alarming state of pain.

"Jack! I need you!"

Placing the water on the bedside table and dabbing her brow with the towel, Jack almost smiled as he remembered the last time he had heard her say that, only then, it wasn't in pain. Quickly forgetting this as she looked into his eyes, her breaths short.

"Jack, it's coming! Where's the doctor?"

"Phelize just ran to fetch him, it should only be a moment."

"We don't have a moment! It's here!"

"No, no, just keep it in there a little longer, only five or ten more minutes at the mo. . ."

"JACK!"

Scared as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward, fire in her eyes, Jack knew what he had to do. There was no waiting for another doctor, he was a doctor and he was to deliver his own child, right then, right there. Detaching himself, he lifted her to the sofa, where it would be easier to birth, and propped her up with pillows behind her back.

"Deep breathes, pace yourself, and push."

"Push, it's pushing it's own way out! This is all your fault!"

"Yes, my love, but think how happy you're going to be. . ."

"Happy? I'm in mortal pain!"

"That's just your maternal instinct speaking."

Knowing he was getting the results he wanted by arguing with her, Jack continued. Come Hell or high water, he was going to deliver his first baby, whose head was beginning to appear, something that both scared him and overjoyed him.

"Maternal instinct! Jack Wyndam-Pryce, I'm going to kill you for this! I'm going to hate you for the rest of my life!"

"I know, dear, and I suppose now isn't the time to tell you, but I don't really like your cooking."

Propping herself up on her elbows, and fixing her husband with a glare, Lena stopped a moment later when wailing filled the room, and Jack held a newborn boy in his arms. In fact, she was anything but filled with rage, as tears welled up in her eyes.

"What is it?"

Cutting the child's umbilical chord with his pocket knife, Jack wrapped it in the blanket he snatched from the top of the chest and handed him to her, just as Phelize, the doctor, and Lena's parents burst into the room.

"A lad."

Covering her mouth, and rushing to her daughter, Sonora kneeled beside the couch as Jack sat next to his wife, his arm around her, and the babe in her arms, its mother's lips pressed against its little head, letting him know she would protect him from anything.

"I love you, so much. Have I ever told you that?"

"Maybe once or twice."

Smiling, Jack kissed his wife's cheek, and then, wrapped his other arm around hers that was supporting the quiet babe, who was now nursing from his mother. He never thought he'd be this proud of anything, but there it was pink and slimy, the fruit of his loins, the pride of his life, his heir, his. . .

"What's his name?"

Looking up at his Frances, who was waiting by the door, still, Jack looked back at his wife, then, to Sonora and Phelize, the doctor gone in a bad mood at having his supper interrupted for nothing.

"The first name must be English if he is to be an English lord."

"Albert, after the king?"

"No, he does not look like an Albert, or a Richard, or a Henry."

"Brutus?"

Giving Jack a look that said, 'not in this life', Lena examined her son for a moment, stroking the thick brown hair that covered his tiny head, and his small button nose. So tiny and fragile, yet so willful and strong at the same time. She was sure he would share her rebellious nature, something that would irk her father until the day he died.

"James."

"James?"

"After King James the First. He was a rebellious sort, smart, handsome."

"James, it is. Our Jamie."

"Riccio."

"What?"

"You said the first name had to be English, but by God, that child is a fourth Italian, and Riccio is quite fitting. It was your grandfather's name."

"James Riccio Wyndam-Pryce."

"No, darling, Lord James Riccio Wyndam-Pryce. For one day, he shall be."

Smiling, and kissing her again, Jack closed his eyes, thinking. Had this been what he was imagining when he smothered his father with that pillow all those years ago? If it wasn't, it should have been.

"Jack."

"Mm."

"I think something is wrong with his eye."

"Why?"

Looking at his son, who had just opened his eyes, drowsily, Jack found what had caused Lena's alarm. Even if the eyes were blue, it was quite apparent by the lighter shading of one, that their child was half-blind.

"What is i. . .he is. . .defected!"

"No! He is not!"

Brushing Frances away, Jack stood, a glare fixed on his father-in-law. Pure rage and the urge to use it coursing through his veins.

"Never say that about Jamie, again. He is your better."

"Why you. . ."

"Do it."

Looking at Jack's eyes, Frances soon found himself putting down his fist, and storming out. Something no one had ever seen him do before, back away from a threat. Though, something about the younger man scared him, and he knew he had no chance in his age.

"Jamie is in no way defected. He's perfect, and no one should question that."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ooh, Jack gets a little testy about people threatening his family. What's next? Well, the story starts now that we have the main players. So, next time, look for Ripper. Oh, and please let me know if you like this. I don't know how many do or don't, and I was just kind of wondering. So, please leave a review!


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